


The End

by Someone_aka_Me



Series: in a world that could've left us hard as metal [20]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: ? - Freeform, But it's a good death, Death, M/M, Sort of? - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-27
Updated: 2014-08-27
Packaged: 2018-02-14 23:48:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2207616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Someone_aka_Me/pseuds/Someone_aka_Me
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He is dying.</p>
<p>He is one hundred and seventeen years old and he is dying.</p>
<p>He is one hundred and seventeen years old and you are not ready to let him go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The End

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MissingMommy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissingMommy/gifts).



He is dying.

He is one hundred and seventeen years old and he is dying.

He is one hundred and seventeen years old and you are not ready to let him go.

He is Charlie, your Charlie, the man who taught you how to embrace yourself whole-heartedly, the man who taught you not everyone will judge you by your past, the man who taught you that love can last a lifetime, if you let it.

He taught you how to let go of expectations and just let things happen as they will. He taught you that while control wasn't always a bad thing, that didn't mean there wasn't a place and time to let go. He taught you that while love could break you, it could also make you stronger than you'd ever thought possible.

He loved you for you and he never forgot that. He showed you how to love yourself. He taught you that it was possible to forgive and forgive and forgive again.

Charlie lived brilliantly and vibrantly and vicariously and you do not know who you are without him anymore because it has been seventy nine years. You have not truly been alone in seventy nine years.

You aren't sure you'll survive it.

You grip his hand tightly and listen to the air shudder in and out of his failing lungs. You talk, because he has always loved the sound of your voice. You ramble on about a thousand things, about the things you have done and the things you haven't done and the things you wish you still had time for.

You tell him you will never stop being grateful for seventy nine years. You tell him that you will never stop loving him. You talk until your voice is nothing more than a raspy whisper and you trail off into silence, gripping his hand tightly in yours.

"I'm not ready for you to go," you finally whisper. "And maybe that's selfish, but I've always been a bit selfish when it comes to you."

Bill tries to get you to leave his side to at least eat and sleep, but you won't. And you won't let them put him in a hospital. You tell Bill that you can take care of him just fine and you get plenty of sleep curled up next to him, and besides, your honorary nieces and nephews have been bringing you more food than you've eaten in your entire life. You won't leave him, not now.

Too many times you'd already thought you were going to lose him, but this time is so, so different. It is not an uncertainty, and it is not a moment. It is a stretch of time that passes too quickly and seems to go on forever. It is a countdown to the end. It is the constant ache of dread at an inevitable ending. He is slipping through your fingers and you can do nothing but let him go.

And then one day you wake up with your head on his chest and it isn't moving; there is no air expanding his rib cage, no rhythm in the motion of your head. He isn't breathing. You close your eyes and breathe deeply. You feel the tears build behind closed eyelids. You know that you need to get up, need to move, need to make arrangements and let people know and… but you need this moment.

You need this moment to remind yourself that this pain is the culmination of seventy nine years of joy. You need this moment to remind yourself that it is worth it.


End file.
